


But That's The Price She Paid

by aphoticdepths



Category: Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/F, age of sigmar - Freeform, ambiguous situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphoticdepths/pseuds/aphoticdepths
Summary: There is a golden mask in a secret room deep within the Palace of Seven Vultures.
Relationships: Khalida Neferher/Neferata
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	But That's The Price She Paid

In the innermost chambers of the Palace of Seven Vultures in Nulahmia, there is a private room adjoining the queen's chambers that is only entered by mute slaves and the queen herself.

In this room there is a mask.

Some say that the queen does not even enter this room. Perhaps it is some tiny sliver of human pain that remains in the Queen of Shadows, or perhaps the memories of the mask and the one who once wore it were deemed unnecessary by Nagash when he reshaped her and were eroded to dust and after dust to nothingness. The door is locked and the room is forgotten. The mask shines a dull gold.

Some say that the mask is not merely presented for display. What might have once been a human wears it, now withered and reduced to dusty, brittle bones that a touch might break. In Shyish, where the dead outnumber the living and silent legions of skeletons march, these bones cannot be coaxed back to life by any necromancy. They are piled on a luxurious, enormous bed, lying atop silks and velvets the color of fresh blood. But the queen visits, and speaks honeyed words to this thing almost too decayed to be called a corpse, and gently strokes the bones with a soft white hand.

Or it is not as decayed as all that. Perhaps the body is still inert, but it is mummified well enough that it has remained as it is untouched since before Nulahmia stood. Perhaps Neferata kisses the withered leather that has not been skin for millennia and tips a goblet of crimson liquid into the lipless, grinning mouth beneath the mask.

And perhaps it swallows. Perhaps the woman who wore the mask _does_ still cling to her bones, chained there by necromancy when she wishes for death. Perhaps enough eons have passed when she cursed or shouted or wept or-at the end, she begged for Neferata to end this parody of existence. Perhaps the indomitable beloved of Asaph held out her defiance for millennia of torture, but the lesson of Nagash is that only Nagash is eternal and even she crumbled. In this state there is little difference between her and the truly dead.

But Queen Khalida was strong. Perhaps she endures. Perhaps she spits the blood in the face of the woman she once loved. Perhaps jeweled golden chains keep her imprisoned in her luxury, at the mercy of Neferata until tortures might break down the fury of her ancient hate and it will be shaped into love and fear and worship of Neferata.

But Queen Khalida is dead. And it is only a mask. A mask that some whisper the Queen enters the chambers of to weep tears of blood. Tears are for the Lady Olynder, though, and perhaps Neferata was brought back by Nagash with eyes that cannot cry tears and a heart that cannot mourn the woman she dreamed of for thousands of years before the world ended.

Perhaps she takes a woman who catches her fancy to the room, sometimes, and places the golden death-mask on her face. Then whatever was in the woman before, she is crushed before High Queen Khalida who will charge and shout and scream her hate at her killer. And Neferata will smile.

She is queen of lies and secrets. This is not her secret, for if Nagash wished he would rip it raw and bleeding from her mind and if he wished he would tear whatever might remain of Khalida of Lybaras to nothingness. But it is something like that.

(She does not know the truth either.)


End file.
